Bitter Irony
by Noyoki
Summary: Sometimes life is just one big cosmic joke, to which you are the butt.


A tiny boy stood on the very tips of his toes on an old step stool watching the pan of sizzling bacon with narrow green eyes. One bruise stained shoulder exposed, the large once white shirt hiding his miniscule frame having slipped down yet again. The small boy didn't flinch when a speck of boiling bacon grease splattered just under his left eye. The low grumble of his painfully empty stomach went unnoticed as he carefully tended to breakfast.

Almost, almost…now! The strips were perfect and with fluid grace born of countless mornings of practice he wielded the large spatula carefully scooping the still slightly limp bacon out of the hot pan. Thump, thump, thump the sound of Dudley's large frame lumbering down the stairs to the kitchen made the small boy freeze for a second, hoping against hope that the much larger boy wouldn't notice him this morning. His stomach still ached horribly from where Dudley had kicked him two nights ago.

Watery almost pig like eyes brightened with unholy glee at the sight of the precariously perched boy. A savage inhuman smile flashed as he sauntered past and _accidently_ kicked the leg of the step stool.

Standing stretched to the limit as he was Boy had no chance to save himself and with a loud painful clatter he fell into a boneless heap on the floor. Agony tore though his slender form as the pan crashed down on top of him spilling hot oil and strips of still sizzling bacon on top him. A tiny yelp was pulled reluctantly from him as his skin erupted in painful blisters and he scrambled upright winching more at the sound of the pan clattering on Aunt Petunia's spotless floor than the blisters that marred his exposed skin.

Terror griped his heart and he pushed the pain away like he'd done so many times before and he quickly bent to retrieve the pan, but it was already too late. Loud bellows and stomping could be heard above Dudley's shrill whining that the idiot boy had ruined their breakfast and now he would be late to school.

The boy couldn't help but freeze still half bent over the mess on the floor at the sight of Vernon rounding the corner like an enraged rhino. His face was purple, and little pig eyes narrowed with dangerous fury as they took in the sight of the terrified little boy. Dread held the child frozen and he didn't even try to move as the massive man's fist smashed into the side of his head hard enough to bounce him off the side of the stove with bone jarring force. Small whimpers of pain escaped the boy as he curled up on the floor in a desperate attempt to present less of a target as blows from fists and work boot shod feet rained down with terrible force.

"You little shit! How dare you ruin perfectly good food? I paid good money for that food! You just can't do a damned thing right can you, Freak? Lazy, stupid fool. Seems you can't respect this house and the food I worked so hard to provide you'll just go without!" Vernon bellowed as he grabbed a fist full of ebony curls and jerked the boy bodily off the floor pulling a shriek of agony from him as he stormed down the hall way dragging the tiny body behind him. Then he reached the cupboard under the stairs and throw open the small door before throwing the child with all his strength into the small midnight space below. He ignored the harsh thump of the tiny body as it struck the back wall with punishing force and headed back up stairs to finish getting ready. He'd pick up something to eat on the way to work.

Enormous black and violet bruises painted scar streaked flesh as the crumpled form lay unmoving in a heap on the floor amidst the few tattered blankets he'd been given and the spiders that also called this small space home. Emerald eyes fluttered open one last time before darkness ate away the small line of light showing though the bottom of the door to the cupboard. Blood had begun to pool in his small skull destroying tissue and stealing away the small child's life.

And at 9:17 Tuesday morning the small candle of life that was the Boy was snuffed out. Darkness gathered the tiny battered form within its tattered cloak gently stroking those untamable curls, showing the broken little bird more love than he'd ever known before as the last labored breath escaped in the tiny cupboard of number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whining, Surrey.

Somewhere far away in a magical castle that the child known as Boy, Idiot, and Freak would never see an old man frowned as a small green glass ball on his desk turned a bloody red. A frown tugged at his lips as twinkling blue eyes lost their glitter for just a moment at the realization that a valuable piece had just been removed from the game. Not like the pawn that stood before him complaining about foolish students and how they could never properly learn the art of potion making, no more a Knight, or a Bishop. Valuable to be sure, and his loss would be felt, but he supposed that would make the game all the more interesting in the end. A small smile bloomed and the twinkle once more filled those cunning blue eyes making them appear grandfatherly and harmless.

In another part of the world a wind like howl cut though a far away forest as a wraithlike creature felt the loss of something of great value. Returning to his full power would be more difficult now but, not impossible. He wouldn't lose to that old fool.

And so it passed that the child, the famed Boy Who Lived, died at the hands of a muggle quite by mistake for daring to ruin breakfast. His passing noticed only by two bickering old fools.


End file.
